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by kantokraze



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abuse, Deviates From Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Protectiveness, Self-Harm, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29540430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kantokraze/pseuds/kantokraze
Summary: Nagisa is struggling under the weight of his negative self-perceptions. His classmates want nothing more than to help save him.This is an adoption/rework of the orphaned fic, "Blood Soaked Bandages."
Relationships: Akabane Karma/Shiota Nagisa, Class 3-E & Shiota Nagisa
Comments: 9
Kudos: 96





	1. The Front Door

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Blood Soaked Bandages](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26008813) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> Hello! This was a fic I started following a little while ago, originally called "Blood-Soaked Bandages." I found out that the original fic was orphaned, so I decided to adopt it and rework the original chapters. To the author of the original, if you're out there: thank you very much for the premise and all of your hard work!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! Please leave any comments or criticism to fuel my desperate desires for validation (lol).

Nagisa had been having trouble sleeping as of late. In terms of grades and his relationships, things had continued to slip out of his grasp. It had been harder to focus on mundane tasks, like reminding himself to do his homework or continue working on his combat skills. 

He had counted the specks on his ceiling for the umpteenth time, alleviating a sigh. The boy reached under his pillow and fished out his phone, squinting against the bright numbers on a colorful display. 

The time glared back at him, stating 4:48 A.M., only about twelve minutes before his alarm was meant to go off. Nagisa groaned, pushing himself from the comfort of his bed and placing his bare feet to the hardwood. It wouldn’t be much longer before the sun would rise, and he would be back into the struggle of attempting to feel “normal,” trying to act like nothing was wrong in front of his classmates and teachers. 

He decided he would shower again, just to fill the time before his mother would wake up. Just to feel the hot water rush over him. Even if it wasn’t necessary, it helped him to feel a bit less tired. 

Nagisa gathered his uniform and headed to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He did his best to avoid the mirror, heading straight for the safety of the linoleum and warm water. The boy shed his nightclothes, stepping in before the water had finally heated, just for the rush of the chill to get his brain correctly started. 

As customary, his gaze shifted to his shampoo bottle, an olive green container. He lifted it slightly, revealing his hiding place for his favorite weapon— a thin razor blade. 

This was something new to him. Something he wasn’t quite familiar with, but he was aware of the risks he was taking. Unfortunately, Nagisa did not care. He fiddled with the instrument between his index finger and thumb, staring at the scars that had been accumulating on his wrists, torso, and thighs. Some months old, some of them were only weeks or a few days. He traced over his skin with a shaking hand, feeling the roughness over the older scars, those still littered with scabs, and those that had become nothing more than thin lines of white across his pale skin. 

He pressed the blade against his wrist, just barely, feeling the slight sear from an open wound meeting scorching hot water. He gritted his teeth, letting out a low hiss as he pressed further, leaving a thin gash dripping red into the drain. Nagisa watched the blood mix with the water and trail from his arm, diluting itself naturally. 

“Do you feel sorry for yourself?” He muttered, narrowing his eyes at the trail of wounds appearing as he continued his self-mutilation. Nagisa raised his wrist to the showerhead, whining at the sensation of the burning that ebbed from his arm. It wasn’t much, but it was something he could feel.

Something tangible was what he needed desperately. He knew he was worthless, both at school and at home, and he needed to remind himself of this fact—useless child.

Worthless child.

He snapped out of his trance, pulling his wrist close to his chest protectively. “You overdid it,” he scolded himself, shutting off the shower and crossing the bathroom towards the sink. The blood dripped from his arm into the sink now as he turned the faucet to cold, wiping off what blood he could. Nagisa applied pressure to his wrist for a few minutes with a washcloth, one that he would also need to throw away. He sighed in annoyance once he was satisfied with his handiwork, wrapping his arm with bandages he had stashed in the back of his cabinet. 

It wasn’t much, and it was annoying that he had broken down so close to the time for school, but it would hold him through the day. Nagisa finished dressing in his uniform, brushing through his hair and tying it back with a small frown. He glanced at himself in the mirror, forcing a smile to his face.

Everything was normal.

Nagisa retreated to his room, stashing the bloodied washrag in the back of his wardrobe and tossing his nightclothes back onto his bed. He finished gathering his necessities for the day: homework he had forgotten to finish, his socks, and his phone. He glanced back at his phone, glaring back at the time.

“Shit,” He muttered, rubbing his forehead in annoyance. Nagisa had missed the prime time to leave for school before his mother had awoken, meaning he would have the pleasure of speaking with her before an enriching day of learning. What a pleasure. 

He scolded himself as he traversed through their apartment, finding Hiromi in the kitchen, still packing her lunch for work. She greeted him initially with a smile before frowning and ushering him over. Nagisa complied, pulling himself behind the kitchen counter, “Good morning, mom.”

“Oh, Nagisa,” She says sweetly, tracing a finger across his neck and pulling down his hair, “I thought I mentioned how you shouldn’t wear your hair up like that anymore. It suits you so much better when it’s down,” Hiromi smiles, twirling a lock of his blue hair between her fingers. She grabs his shoulder with a delicate hand before digging her nails into his skin with a haunting gaze. “Don’t let me catch you with your hair up again.” 

With that, Hiromi exited the room, leaving Nagisa feeling weak. He stifled a sigh of relief as she headed back to her room, desperately trying to catch his breath. Whatever appetite he had before had left the room with her, and he was left trying to hold himself together. Nagisa hurried out of the door, slipping on his shoes and running down the steps, allowing his feet to carry him to Kunugigaoka High.

Despite his early rising, he was nearly late from his morning debacle, both of his accord and his mother’s. He tied his hair back up, taking a few shaky breaths before entering the classroom. With a plastic smile, he headed into the room. 

-  
He was tired.

That had been decided halfway through the lecture, in which Nagisa could barely keep his eyes open. He had always tended to zone out during class, but he was fighting his eyes to stay alert in his studies. Nagisa pinched his thighs every few minutes, shaking himself awake. 

“Earth to Nagisa,” Kayano prodded him as he lurched forward in his seat. 

“Y-yes,” Nagisa answered, looking up to an alert Korosensei who was awaiting an answer for a mathematics question. “Oh, sorry. I dozed off,” He chuckled sheepishly, which earned a few stifled laughs from the classroom.

Kayano eyed the back of his head with a frown, raising an eyebrow to Korosensei. The two of them shared a shrug, and the class continued, their teacher making further notes on the board.

-

It was during a training session with Mr. Karasuma that his idle state became apparent. He had been paired with Kayano again, in a playful spar. It wasn’t that he wasn’t expecting to do any sort of physical activity today, but he had silently hoped they would go straight into more academics. 

Kayano threw herself forward, lunging at Nagisa with their specialized knives. He barely managed to dodge, sidestepping from her range and reaching out to jab at her side. 

“Too slow!” Kayano laughed, jumping at her partner, knife inching dangerously close to his face. Nagisa threw up his arm defensively, catching the block with his forearm out of habit. He stunned himself for a moment, dropping his knife and cradling his arm with an exasperated hiss. 

“A-are you okay?” Kayano asked quickly, dropping her weapon and inching towards him, “I’m sorry! I didn’t think it would hurt—“

Nagisa shook himself back into reality, waving her away with his free hand, “No, no! You didn’t do anything wrong,” He explains with a sheepish laugh, unaware of the presence of his bandages, seeping with blood, that Kayano saw peeping through his uniform. 

“Nagisa, what happened?” The girl asked in concern, unable to break her gaze with his hidden injuries. “Should I tell Mr. Karasuma? He should be able to—“

“Ah, no, no!” He explained quickly, waving away her concern. “I just had a bad fall on my run this morning. I scraped up my arm pretty badly, but I thought it would be alright. I underestimated it, though!” Nagisa explains further, giving her a small, reassuring smile. “We can keep going; it’s alright! It doesn’t even hurt.”

Kayano nods, meeting his gaze. She can tell he’s lying but wants to reassure him. “Okay. I’ll try to avoid your arm,” She smiles back, and the two continue to spar until the end of the session, even if it is obvious Kayano is half-assing her attempts. 

As the class ended, Kayano watched Nagisa leave last towards the locker rooms, her eyes narrowed. He had never been a great actor, Kayano had learned, but she would continue to let him believe otherwise. More importantly, she could tell he didn’t want anyone to see his wounds. Although Kayano wasn’t sure of his reasoning, she had a few suspicions running through her mind, and she wanted them to put to rest. 

“Korosensei,” Ayano addressed her instructor with a stern gaze, stopping him before he entered the classroom, “May we talk before class? I have a few concerns about Nagisa,” She droned on for a moment as the teacher gave her a nod of approval.

The teacher led her into his office, away from the bustle of the class. “So, is it confession time already? I was sure there was going to be another few weeks before we got to that point—“ He chattered in excitement as Kayano blushed furiously and shook her head.

“No! That’s not it at all!” She groaned, rolling her eyes, “Haven’t you noticed something had been a bit… off lately?” Kayano addressed, tilting her head, “He’s… really tired looking. He keeps dozing off in class, and I have to keep waking him up.” 

“Yes, I too have noticed this change, although it could be chalked up to many things. Stress, puberty—“ The teacher explained, as Kayano interrupted with a frown, “That’s not all.”

Korosensei’s head turned slightly as Kayano pointed to her wrist with a concerned look. “I was sparring with him earlier. His guard was down, and I nearly had him pinned, but then I hit his arm. He almost started crying, and then—“ She sighed, gaze dropping to the floor, “He lied to me.”

The teacher placed a reassuring tentacle on her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “Thank you for entrusting me with this information, Miss Kayano.” He retracted his appendage, straightening his robes, “I’ll keep a closer watch on Nagisa. But in the meantime, continue to keep me posted on any new developments, won’t you? You are one of his closest friends, after all.” 

The girl smiles at that, giving him a nod of confirmation, “I will.” 

-

The rest of the day filtered through quickly for Nagisa. His attention was shot, his wrist was throbbing, and he didn’t want to stay awake any longer. As soon as the class was dismissed, he avoided Kayano’s gaze and headed out of the door, back towards the questionable safety of his home.

Hiromi wouldn’t be returning from work for another few hours, so he found himself in the comfortable silence of the apartment. Nagisa had grabbed an apple from the kitchen and headed back to his room, putting away his things for the day. He knew he couldn’t avoid his injuries any longer, so he ran to his bathroom to proctor his wound care. He was cleaning off any blood that had gathered from the day, tossing his old bandages, and tending to his new wraps. It was a self-care ritual he had grown accustomed to after a few months, but he continued telling himself that he wouldn’t do such a thing again.

But he never made promises he couldn’t keep.

Suddenly, he heard the door click from the other room. His breaths quickened as he heard her heels click at the entrance.

Mother was home early.


	2. Living Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for today! I hope you all are enjoying it so far.

“Nagisa?” 

His blood curdled at her call. He quickly scrambled to the mirror and pulled down his hair, brushing through it with his fingers the best that he could. Nagisa inhaled sharply before leaving the comfort of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Her hair was a bit messy from the back, most likely from her ride back to their apartment, but she was clutching a familiar bag in her hands. 

“There you are, darling,” She cooed, approaching him with a wide grin. Hiromi enveloped her son in a hug, running her hands through his silken hair with a glazed expression on her face. He knew that she was gone at that moment, feeling his stomach lurch at every snare and tangle in his hair, being brushed out with her fingers. Even if she was delicate with him, it was something he hadn’t grown accustomed to. She would say something sweetly, he would respond with a level of uncertainty, and she would lash out at him again.

It was just a matter of time.

Hiromi pulled herself away from the boy, still cradling a lock of hair between her fingers, “Oh, my princess,” She smiled at him in her daze, tracing a finger across the softness of his jawline, “I have such an amazing day planned for the both of us. Aren’t you excited? An afternoon with your mother?” She exclaimed, pulling her hands together in an excited clap. “We’ll be meeting up with one of my coworkers and her daughter. She’s about your age, you know, but she’s definitely not as beautiful as you.” Hiromi confessed, barely able to suppress her laughter. 

He felt a hardness form in the pit of his stomach. Nagisa hated going out with his mother since it was an excuse for her to play dress-up with him. He had been through it all before, the quiet smiles of strangers as he was adorned with the most ridiculous of outfits. Embarrassment rose in his cheeks, but he couldn’t break his gaze with her. 

“Aren’t you excited?” She questioned, a finger propped against his chin. Her nails scraping against his skin made his skin crawl. “It’ll do you good to respond.” She stated through gritted teeth, her voice dripping with malice. 

“I’m very excited, mother,” Nagisa managed out, feeling her fingers relax from his throat. Her eyes softened, and her smile turned sweet.

“I’m glad, Nagisa,” Hiromi stated, pulling a lock of his hair from behind his shoulders, “You should go ahead and get some sleep, then. You should be well-rested for tomorrow so that you can get rid of those dark circles of yours. I’ll pick you up tomorrow to do your hair and make-up.” She smiled, retreating to the kitchen.

“Oh, and you can try on this dress I got for you!” She mentioned, moving the bag to their dining table, “It’ll be a surprise.” Hiromi teased, pressing a small finger to her lips. He nodded at her, aware of his early dismissal, again without dinner.   
-

The next morning went by quickly. He managed to scrape by with a few hours of rest and avoided his mother that morning before school. Despite his calm demeanor, he couldn’t help but consider the unavoidable fate that would meet him by the school day’s end. He had tried everything at this point, wanting anything to serve as a distraction: pinching himself, shaking his leg, fumbling with the knife under his desk, and he even resorted to chewing the end of his pen. All distractions had begun to fail as he continued to watch the clock.

His heart raced in his chest, bile building in the back of his throat throughout his lectures. Nagisa excused himself from the classroom and headed down the hall, hoping no one would dare to follow. 

The bathroom was a haven for moments like this, as he shut the door of the stall and used it for support. He slid to the floor defeatedly, holding his head between his legs. Once the world had stopped spinning, everything would be okay. Once his heart stopped pounding, everything would be okay. His mind was clouded from everything that had been building, and he felt like he could barely manage any more than this. 

He heard the creak of the bathroom door and shoes shuffling just outside of his door. He didn’t bother looking down to see who it was; he just hoped it wasn’t her. 

“Hey, Nagisa,” Isogai prompted, knocking on the stall door softly, “Are you alright in there? You’ve been gone for a while, so I came to check.”

Nagisa managed out a quiet, “fine,” but Isogai was persistent. 

“Are you sick or something? Do you want me to get someone for you?” The boy pressed further as Nagisa began managing his breaths again. He counted in silence as the drum in his chest calmed, minute after minute, as the two of them existed in total silence. Nagisa pulled himself up from the floor, opening the door with a small smile directed at his classmate. 

“Sorry for troubling you. I really just needed a minute,” He explained, brushing himself off. Isogai nodded back, meeting his glassy gaze. The representative relaxed a bit but noted to himself the unusual disposition of his classmate; his tenseness, his distracted look. The pair headed back to class in silence, but Isogai couldn’t help himself from worrying. 

-

By the time class had ended, Nagisa had already headed out of the door. Kayano was only just beginning to pack up by the time Isogai approached, sitting at the desk next to her with an exaggerated sigh.

“Something wrong with you?” She jested, placing her notebooks inside her bag.  
“Not me, actually,” He muttered, resting his head on his arm, “I wanted to ask you about Nagisa.” 

Kayano stopped her packing, narrowing her eyes slightly. She had meant to talk with Nagisa about his disappearance from class today, but he had been so quick to leave school as of late.

“Let’s talk outside, then,” Kayano ordered, closing her bag. The pair of them exited the school together, placing themselves outside the back entrance, away from the bustle of those leaving the classroom. 

“He’s not doing great, is he?” Isogai asked, placing his bag in the grass.

Kayano only shrugged, shaking her head in quiet disbelief. “I couldn’t tell you,” She said sadly, rubbing the back of her neck, “He doesn’t talk to me much anymore,” She explained, before raising her attention back to the class representative, “You saw him in the bathroom today, right? Did something happen?” 

He shook his head in response, “Not really. Nagisa was on the floor in one of the stalls. I asked him if he was alright and told me he was, but I’ve been there before. He said he just needed a minute, but he looked like he had been crying, or something like that.”

“I feel bad,” Kayano admitted, rubbing her shoulders, “I want to do something, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I just want things to go back to how they were before. That’s selfish, I guess.” She explained, turning her gaze to the ground, watching the blades of grass moving softly in the wind. 

“Hey, don’t feel bad,” Isogai reassured her, reaching for her hand. She took his offer in silence, and he offered her a comforting touch, “It’s not like you being there for him isn’t enough. You’re trying your best for what he’s allowing us to do. It’s a hard line to respect someone’s space and let them know that you’re there for them.” 

“Yeah,” She smiled softly, “I guess we’ll just keep being there, as much as we can. Until he’s ready.” 

“Until he’s ready.” Isogai nodded, giving her hand another squeeze.

-

“You’re so pretty, Nagisa,” Hiromi smiled wistfully, pulling locks of his hair back one by one, leaving them pressed in delicate curls. He was forced to stare at the vanity, watching himself transform into someone he did not want to be. Etched cheekbones carved with pastel rouge, eyes enhanced with mascara and eyelash curlers, lips coated with delicate colors. If he was a person who was into makeup, he might find himself entranced with how pretty he looked, how she had magically transformed him from a tired-looking boy to a teenage girl, hair curled in perfect locks.

“Thank you, mother,” He stated as she finished her work, pulling his hair to the front, its volume and sheen accenting his completed makeup. She turned him around in his chair, staring at her efforts to make her son as beautiful as she possibly could. He could almost see tears forming in her eyes as he issued her a plastic smile. 

“Oh, Nagisa,” She cooed, “You are the perfect daughter.” Hiromi reached forward to cradle Nagisa in her arms, which he had no way to escape from. The pair sat in silence for a few minutes, Hiromi continuing to smooth his hair before she pulled back with a smile. 

“You haven’t seen your dress!” She noted, scampering into the kitchen, before returning with the mystery bag he had been from the day before. Hiromi laughed excitedly as she prepared to unveil the outfit she had so carefully curated. In moments, she pulled the dress from the bag and showcased it to her son. 

It was a pale yellow color, a long-sleeved dress with a strange bow around the neck. The waist was cinched, but the top was forgivingly loose. Nagisa nodded at the dress, which Hiromi took as a sign of approval.

“Oh, I just knew you would love it,” She sighed, placing it over her clothes and twirling carefully, “Mother knows best, after all. It’s just right for your figure, too! It showcases your hips and is loose enough to be forgiving for that chest area of yours.” She laughed, playfully, inching closer towards her son. “Here, I’ll help you put it on!”

“N-no!” He cried, tensing his hands. Hiromi tilted her head, her smile unfazed but her eyes wild. 

“‘No?’” She repeated, gritting her teeth.

“I mean, no, thank you! I love the dress,” He explained quickly, taking it from her hands, “It’s just, I’m a growing… girl, and I should know how to dress properly,” Nagisa covered, feeling his stomach lurch at his own words.

“You’re right,” Hiromi stated with a smile, patting the dress, “You can leave me to get dressed, then, I’ll just be a few minutes changing out of my work uniform, and we can be on our way.” She explained, and Nagisa bowed out of the room quickly.

He found himself back in the bathroom, feeling deathly ill as he changed into a dress he did not want to wear. Nagisa removed his clothes, not bearing to look at his body which had grown to be riddled with scars. He didn’t want to imagine what would happen if she saw them, but he knew exactly what she would say.

“You’ve ruined this perfect body I’ve given you! Do you know how much I would have loved to be in your position? You ungrateful brat!”

Despite the words being his own, he could still hear her yelling at him. He could feel her fingers against his throat, her hands intertwined in his hair, and he felt nothing but sickness. Nagisa forced himself to put on the dress, careful not to mess with the hair or makeup she had so tediously fixed. 

He exited the bathroom to find Hiromi standing there, almost in tears at his appearance.

“Oh, my beautiful girl.”

-

“Oh, you must be Nagisa; I’ve heard so much about you!” The woman cooed, taking his hand in hers and giving it a quick shake. Nagisa smiled at her but heard nothing of what she was explaining. Who she was, who her daughter was, how old they were, and what she did for work. Nagisa didn’t care. He didn’t want to be seen in public like this.

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” He stated courteously, as Hiromi placed her hands over his shoulders, “Isn’t she a doll? So polite and so beautiful,” His mother complimented, but he knew they were meaningless words.

She didn’t know a thing about him. She didn’t know about his favorite games or shows, about what colors he liked, about what he wanted to be when he grew up. Her words meant nothing because he knew that they were empty. That unless he was a girl unless he was living the life she wanted him to live, that he would mean nothing to her. 

Any questions directed towards Nagisa were instantly intercepted by Hiromi, discussing companies she liked for him, schools she wanted him to go to, a future she wanted him to live. He sat there in silence, smiling and nodding as he had been taught to do. Not picking at his food unless told, not eating unless it was commented upon, and not saying anything except bullshit pleasantries. 

He pinched his leg, counting the minutes until he could go home.

Nagisa did not see Karma Akabane enter and exit the restaurant. 

-

“That was so much fun, wasn’t it, Nagisa?” Hiromi sighed wistfully, removing her shoes at the door. Nagisa could feel his heart pounding the longer he spent with this woman. His fight or flight response was urging him to run. 

“Yes,” He stammered, removing his shoes and inching further into their apartment, “I’ve gotta-- bathroom,” Nagisa muttered, charging towards the door. He strained himself, getting out of the dress, pulling his arm back in agony as he reached for the zipper. He cursed himself, feeling the urge to scream grow in his chest, pulling tighter before he heard the garment rip.

“Oh, God,” He choked, shedding the dress to the floor, collapsing, and picking up the dress with widened eyes. It wasn’t so bad, was it? The zipper was ruined, sure, and the shoulder had ripped as well, but it was salvageable, wasn’t it? 

He gathered the dress in his arms, feeling himself beginning to crumble. Nagisa could feel the tears now, hot and pouring from his cheeks, black streaks cascading from his eyes. He felt the makeup burning him now, pricking at his eyes. Nagisa turned to the sink and rubbed furiously, scraping at the remnants of her femininity she had left on his face. He looked up at the mirror, horrorstricken at the sight, a boy with irritated eyes, dark circles accentuated by his dripping mascara. 

Pathetic.

After another few rounds of scrubbing, he retreated from the bathroom in his nightclothes, dress in his hands. Knowing his mother, all he could do now was an attempt to apologize, although he wasn’t sure how this could get any better. 

Hiromi was sitting at the kitchen table, a smile still plastered on her face. She glanced over her son with curiosity before her eyes met the ruined dress in his hands.

“What did you do, Nagisa?” She questioned, rising from her seat, the chair falling over behind her, hitting the ground with a clatter. He found himself shaking again, stumbling over any words he had wanted to say. “What did you do, Nagisa?” She yelled, rearing back her hand and smacking him to the floor. He crumbled beneath her, dropping the dress and frantically apologizing.

He was smart enough to know that words meant nothing to her in this state. 

“I do everything for you! Do you think money grows on trees? Do you think I can afford so many pretty dresses for you just to ruin?” She yells, grabbing his hair and slamming him into the floor with each remark, “Useless, useless child!” Hiromi cries, continuing her reign over him, not allowing him to move. “Apologize to me, apologize!”

“I’m sorry,” Nagisa chokes out, his head spinning with every slam. He can only continue to repeat the phrase until she’s appeased. Until she leaves him lying on the floor. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispers long after she leaves him, curled up on the floor. 

Pathetic.

He pulls himself from the ground at the break of dawn, bracing the wall for support. He shifts through the apartment silently until he reaches his room. Nagisa didn’t want to see the damage. He didn’t want to go to school in the morning. He didn’t want to be awake anymore.

Nagisa found himself back in his bed, counting the specks on the ceiling until his alarm went off.


	3. Kitchen

His alarm goes off. 

Nagisa pries open his eyes, barely able to lift himself off of the bed. He didn’t want to go to school, but he sure as hell did not want to be stuck here when she woke up. Fingers moved to push his hair back from his face, tucking it behind his ears. Nagisa’s entire body stung.

His head was throbbing viciously. He wasn’t sure if he was bleeding or not, and at this point, he didn’t care. The boy reached over to his phone, seeing an unread message from the night before.

**New message from Karma:**

**“U up?”**

Nagisa would stifle a laugh typically, but he didn’t respond to the message. After the events of last night, he wasn’t finding himself in the mood to do much of anything. 

He shifted from his bed, changing into his uniform with stifled groans. It felt like he had been hit by a truck. Despite Hiromi’s stature, when his mother was mad, she packed quite the punch. But this was the first time things had ever escalated so quickly. Doing his best to ignore the fresh bruising that littered his body, Nagisa grabbed his bag and headed to the bathroom. 

The person staring back at him in the mirror looked unfamiliar. Their hair was still wavy from the night before, their eyes sunken and tired. They had a few bruises inching in from their hairline, the violet color complimenting the blue in their hair nicely. Even when he smiled, the person didn’t look like him. 

But it was. 

He left the bathroom without another word, leaving for school before anyone else would be considering waking up. Nagisa liked going this early, sometimes. It gave him time to contemplate his existence. It was a time to question if he should escape into the wilderness without another thought. 

Nagisa felt his phone buzz again in his pocket. He pulled it out, showing the delinquent’s name flash on his screen.

**New message from Karma:**

**“U up now?”**

He ignored this text as well, shoving the phone back into his pants pocket. As always, Karma’s timing was impeccable. He had a habit of not showing up to school for a few days before reappearing through Nagisa’s text messages. He ignores another buzz that comes from his pocket. As the building comes into the horizon, he rubs at his eyes, still staggering on the pavement. 

Just a little longer.

“It’s not nice to ignore people’s texts, you know.” Nagisa hears his voice from a distance, and his eyes bring him into focus. Karma and his vibrant hair, standing cockily with his hands placed on his hips.

“Hair down today, huh?” He comments, approaching the boy with a whistle, narrowing his eyes. “She's busy getting you all dolled up again, huh?” Karma retorted, reaching over Nagisa’s shoulder to fiddle with a lock of his hair.

The boy nodded briefly, turning his gaze to the pavement. He had been in such a rush this morning he hadn’t even thought about it, but he wasn’t expecting Karma to appear in the early hours of the morning. Nagisa raised his gaze back to Karma, who was eyeing over him with curiosity.

How much had he seen? Was it that noticeable to the people around him that he was struggling? It was true he hadn’t tended to himself as well as he ought to, but he wasn’t expecting to be ridiculed over his appearance first thing in the morning.

“Contrary to belief, silence is not a virtue,” Karma chimes in, breaking Nagisa from his thoughts. The boy nods, uttering a quiet “sorry” between parted lips. “Figured. You were really planning on going to school like that, huh?” Karma almost laughs at him in pitiful amusement, but Nagisa only nods again.

He was foolish.

“Oh, calm down, would you?” The assassin smiles, taking a few steps away from the path to their beloved classroom. “C’mon, then. It’s not like skipping one day is going to kill your grades. Hell, I’ve skipped three, and I’ll be able to maintain my perfect grade point average.” He brags, motioning for the boy to join him on his walk.

“Where are we going?” Nagisa asks, raising an eyebrow in question. Karma shakes his head in disbelief, reaching back to grab his wrist.

“My house. The folks are out on a trip again, so it’s all me, little Nagisa.” He explains as the pair start their walk together. “Besides, it would be stupid to go to school after your little debacle yesterday, wouldn’t it?” He looks back with amusement, amber eyes sparkling.

“So, you knew,” Nagisa muttered sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, “Sorry you had to see that.” He knew better than to believe he could hide anything from Karma, the boy who sees all.

“Yeah, I had an inkling, but my suspicions weren’t confirmed until yesterday,” He explains, placing his hands behind his head. “You look like you needed a place to recoup, so I figure I’d butt in for a while. I tried stealing you from your window last night, but someone wasn’t responding to any of my texts.” He teased, cocking an eyebrow back at Nagisa.

His body stiffened at the reminder of last night. The phone hadn’t been with him, of course, but it would have been nearly impossible to sneak out after something like that. But Karma was a person that operated on his own rules, so he didn’t care much about little details like that.

Karma noted his change in disposition, locking his lips for the remainder of the walk. If he wasn’t up to chatting, then that was fine. He couldn’t really imagine being forced to dress up and play dolls for his parents, but then again, he wasn’t one who was afraid to kill those who stood in the way of his pleasure. Despite Nagisa’s bloodlust, he was still a very caring person, even if those people stood in the way of his personal happiness. 

He hated that about him.

-

Karma Akabane’s home was one that would be seen in a movie. Large rooms with vast stretches of hardwood, tall ceilings, and painted pictures hung from the cream walls of artists he had never heard of before. He made him eat something, even if it was small, which made him feel a bit better, despite the fact he was threatened with a knife if he didn’t finish the eggs Karma had made for him. But Nagisa knew it was just Karma’s weird way of showing that he cared. 

“So, I’ll let you shower, on one condition,” Karma proposes, turning from his stool on the kitchen bar. His eyes narrowed as he gestured to Nagisa’s hairline with a frown, “You tell me exactly what happened. No bullshit.”

Nagisa feels embarrassment rise to his cheeks again. He looks back to his empty plate with a small frown. “Isn’t it obvious,” He muttered, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. “I made her mad again.” 

“So? Why don’t you just fight back?” Karma questioned in a low tone, “It seriously pisses me off to see you like this. You know you have the potential, and you know you can do it. So why are you acting like a helpless little puppy?”

Nagisa frowned, feeling the grip on his throat again. The tightness in his stomach. “I don’t know. I just get so scared.” He explained, wanting the churning to stop. Nagisa didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

Karma frowned. Nagisa, the boy who wasn’t afraid of risking his own life, was scared of his mother, who couldn’t be more than one hundred and twenty pounds. Something didn’t compute in his mind when he tried adding this together. The boy who could match him in wit being battered by a frail woman with an even more fragile mental state.

“Whatever,” He said with a sigh, leaving his chair. “Come on then, I’ll grab you a towel and some clothes, and you can get cleaned up. Hell, you can even take a bath if you want, just don’t die in there.” Karma teased, brushing past Nagisa and heading down the hall. Nagisa followed behind him, leaving his plate on the counter.

Passing the living room, the pair headed to the bathroom, which Karma motioned to with his pointer finger. He disappeared for a moment, walking down to a room farther down the hall. Nagisa stepped into the bathroom, intaking the stark white walls. It was twice as large as the one he was used to at home and had a large square mirror covering half of the wall. He raised an eyebrow at his reflection, shuffling his feet on the rug placed in front of the sink. The entire room was completely spotless, which he assumed was due to Karma’s housekeeper. Nagisa was well aware of Karma’s inability to do such things, which weren’t necessarily his fault. He had been pampered in ways that Nagisa wasn’t used to. Karma had never needed a job to keep things afloat, he never needed to beg his parents for money, and he never needed to take responsibility for most of his actions. Or rather, he refused to, considering he didn’t care about others and their feelings, most of the time. While Nagisa was used to being controlled in every aspect of his life, Karma was free. His parents were never home, and he never had to dress the way they wanted to. At moments like these, Nagisa wished he could be more like Karma.

“Here,” The redhead called, peeking his head around the corner, “It’s not much, but it’s something you can lounge in once you finish.” Karma explained, handing the boy a white t-shirt and gray shorts, as well as a fluffy towel. Nagisa took the items from his hands and nodded in thanks. Content with his gesture, Karma closed the door behind him.

Nagisa undressed quickly and turned on the shower. As the water warmed, he checked his phone, noting that he would be in class at this point. The rest of the class would be entranced in their mathematics lesson, and for once, he was glad that he wasn’t in attendance. After his experience from the night before, he wasn’t sure if he had the strength to make it through another day in silence. But he was lucky enough to have friends like Karma, even if he wasn’t the best at expressing his feelings of appreciation towards them. When the water met the temperature of his liking, he stood in silence for a few moments, running through the motions—wiping himself down, running his hands through his hair, being cautious over his new bruises, and finding what peace he could muster. Sometimes, it felt like he spent too much time in the washroom, but it was what gave him a sense of comfort. Space where he could be alone and where he knew he wouldn’t have to perform for anyone else.

He shut off the water and stepped out, drying himself off with the towel. He swore it was imported from somewhere ridiculous, likely a souvenir from one of his parents’ ravishing trips across the globe. Karma mentioned their trips sometimes, but he was never in attendance of any of them. When they were off on business, Karma was fond of skipping classes, to Korosensei’s dismay. He always scolded him on returns, to which Karma would retort with snide remarks. 

Nagisa’s thoughts were interrupted by the t-shirt he found himself holding, fumbling his fingers over the sleeves’ shortness. If he wore this, Karma would see them. He would be able to see the scars that trailed across his arms, old and new. He wasn’t sure what he would say or what he would do if he saw them. Call him weak? Tell him he was making a big deal of nothing? Nagisa wasn’t sure, but he found himself shaking in the bathroom, pressing his hands to the counter for stability. He knew he had to tell someone eventually. It would only be a matter of time before someone found out. He had been careless; Kayano had seen only a few days ago, and Isogai had found him in the bathroom the day before. 

He gripped the shirt tighter in his hand, shaking his head. Nagisa pulled the shirt over his head, watching it swallow his frame. Karma was a bit bigger than him, so it didn’t look as bad as he thought. Inhaling, he put on his shorts and finished drying his hair, leaving the towel hanging over the shower to dry. Nagisa exited the bathroom, peering down the hall. Karma was still sitting at the counter, scrolling through his phone. He glanced up, motioning the boy over.

“Feel any better?” Karma asked, tilting his head. His eyes narrowed as Nagisa approached, taking the seat next to him. Amber eyes narrowed and raised to meet Nagisa’s; his lips pulled into a tight frown. For once, Karma Akabane did not know what to say. He was aware of Nagisa’s predicament at home, but he hadn’t assumed things would resort to these measures. 

“Have you been taking care of those?” Karma questioned, nodding at Nagisa’s arms. He knew they were likely a couple of days old, given their coloration and size. Karma had gotten in his fair share of spars to know about cuts like these, although he had never inflicted them on himself. Nagisa nodded, clenching his fists. The redhead sighed slightly, motioning towards the couch, “Take a seat, alright? That’s not a suggestion, either.”

Nagisa obliged, moving over to the couch quietly. It was a large sectional in stark white; plush cushions fluffed perfectly against the seats. He felt strange as he sat and waited, existing in a living room that did not feel properly “lived in.” Karma disappeared down the hall again, taking his time looking through a supply closet. He returned with a small box in his hands, taking a seat next to him. Karma gestured towards his left arm, extending his hand.

“Let me see,” He commanded, opening the box. Nagisa complied, feeling Karma’s fingers wrap delicately around his wrist. His gaze scoured his wounds, and Karma clicked his tongue in annoyance. “You really shouldn’t get these wet when they’re fresh,” He scolds, rummaging through the first aid kit for a small bottle of alcohol. He tipped the brown container onto a sterile pad and prodded Nagisa’s cuts tenderly. The boy held back his urge to hiss, which did not go unnoticed by his caregiver.

“It won’t hurt as much when I’m finished,” Karma explained, turning his attention back towards Nagisa’s scar-littered arm, “This one doesn’t look great,” He comments, pressing against the deepest cut against his wrist. Karma reaches back into the kit and pulls out a small tin of petroleum jelly. “You’re not supposed to use alcohol in the first couple of days when they’re this bad, but you should be fine.” 

Nagisa nods, watching him scoop the substance with his finger and gently spread it across the cut. He winces slightly at the pressure but eases back once he takes a moment to admire his work. Nodding, Karma returns to the kit and pulls out sterile dressings, unraveling the bandages around his arm. He quickly finishes his work, pulling the wrap firmly around Nagisa’s arm and tucking the end of the strip. 

“Thanks,” Nagisa states, holding the arm close to his chest. Karma nods in response initially before cocking an eyebrow.

“I can’t do a lot for the bruises, unfortunately,” He says with a frown, pointing to his forehead. “If she left any bad ones anywhere else, we can wrap them since that stops swelling.”

“You know a lot about medicine,” Nagisa comments with a smile.

“Not that much, just what to do after fights. You know how I am,” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his head. His attention shifts again to Nagisa, the outline of his neck riddled with a faint bruise. “There’s one on your neck there,” He points, reaching to brush against the collar of his t-shirt. “Can I see?”

Nagisa dips his head and shifts his hips, pulling the shirt over his head. He keeps it wrapped around his neck, feeling embarrassed about the vulnerability of his state. Karma’s hands trace across his neck and chest, outlining the dark bruising across his torso. The swelling is fierce, and he can feel Nagisa shift uncomfortably as he grazes against his skin. He does his best to ignore the faint white lines and thinning scars against his stomach and side, trying to focus again on what he feels is necessary to treat. Karma turns back to the wraps in his kit, pulling the bandages across the boy’s chest. Pulling the dressing across his shoulder and torso, he begins his wrapping, building the pressure against the darkness against his pale chest. Karma ties off the compress quickly, averting his gaze as soon as he’s finished.

“You can put your shirt down now,” He tells Nagisa, putting his items back into the box. Nagisa nods, pulling the garment back over his chest. 

“Do you do this sort of thing often?” He asks, leaning back against the cushions of the couch. 

“Do  _ you _ ?” Karma retorts with a shifting gaze, “Sorry. I don’t mean it like that. I’m just a little frustrated, is all.” He explains, waving his hand dismissively.

Nagisa’s gaze drops to his feet. “I’m really sorry,” He mutters, rubbing the bandages on his arm. “I don’t mean to be a burden, I--”

“Don’t say that,” Karma sighs, rubbing his temples. “No, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. I just--” He takes a breath and shifts back to Nagisa with blazing eyes, “Why didn’t you tell anybody you were struggling? And I don’t just mean me; I’m talking about Kayano and Isogai as well. It’s not like you don’t have friends that care about you, so why are you busy acting like you’ve got to deal with this on your own?” 

Nagisa moves uncomfortably, barely able to keep his gaze with Karma. “I don’t mean to make everyone worry,” He explains, rubbing his arm, “It’s just that everyone has their own issues to deal with. I didn’t want to become part of that problem.”

“Nagisa,” Karma states, moving his hand to meet his chin, “Look. I’m saying this because I know that you need to hear it. When you keep to yourself and deal with this--” He gestures to his frame, “It only makes people more worried. When people don’t know what’s going on, they jump to conclusions. They overthink things. Being secretive only makes them worry about you more.” 

Nagisa nods, moving away from his hand, “I understand.”

“Do you really?” Karma asks begrudgingly, “I’m not saying this because I want to, but you need help, Nagisa. People don’t usually deal with this on their own. Hell, you could get the police involved with all of the things Hiromi has put you through.” He states, narrowing his eyes, “I’m not going to force you to say anything, but I want you to consider what I’m saying to you right now. Talk to Korosensei.”

Nagisa didn’t say anything in response. He shut his eyes and pressed further into the couch, nodding his head. Karma sighed, shifting to the edge of his seat, “You should probably sleep for a bit.” He said, turning his back to Nagisa. He removed himself from the couch and returned his first-aid kit to the closet.

Karma sat back on the couch beside his friend, propping his feet on the lounger. The two of them sat in silence for a few moments, Nagisa curled into himself against the cushions, and Karma was sitting alone in his thoughts. 

“I’m sorry,” Nagisa stated quietly, “I feel like I judged you about a lot of things.”

“Oh, yeah?” Karma chuckled, leaning his head back, “Like what? I’ll tell you if it’s true or not.”

“Since your family’s so well off, I just assumed you had everything,” He explained sheepishly, giving Karma a small chuckle. “You must be pretty lonely here, huh?”

Karma smiled at his statement, sighing blissfully. “Sometimes it is. It doesn’t bother me much anymore, though. I can do what I want when I want, and I don’t have to be bothered by anyone. Even when they are home, it’s the same principle. We’re both invisible in our own ways, but I bet you wish we could switch, huh?”

“Yeah,” Nagisa smiled, twirling a lock of his hair between his fingers, “Maybe you could grow out your hair, and I could sleep in all day.”

“Oh, sure. I’d just love to get thrown into pretty dresses by my mommy,” He snickers, shooting a glance towards Nagisa, who was still smiling. Karma watched his eyelids droop as he fought sleep and said nothing as he drifted off. 

Once he was sleeping soundly, he left the couch and returned down the hall, pulling the comforter from his bed. Karma returned, throwing it over his sleeping companion, now soundly tucked under a burgundy throw.

“I’ll be back,” He said quietly, turning towards the front door. He left Nagisa in his slumber because he had a job to do. 

Karma Akabane had a meeting with Korosensei to attend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> What are you hoping will happen next?


	4. Bedroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter down! Please leave any criticisms or comments you have-- it's much appreciated!  
> Enjoy!

Every day, class ended at 2:30. The bell would sound, signaling the end of their courses, and students would trudge from the E class building back to their homes, their bags jostling with textbooks and weaponry. After class, the teaching staff would mingle in their offices, grading papers and sorting through possible weapon plans. Karma had watched them from afar, taking careful note of their schedules. He knew that Korosensei would be leaving the classroom soon, stepping outside to take in the fresh air before returning to his duties. The boy was watching from a tree in the forest, his back pressed against the splintered wood, pressing his hand against the bark for stability. Any moment now, he would exit through the back door, and Karma would be waiting for him.

The creature moved through the building with ease as Karma watched, his eyes trailing the windows for his moment to strike. Doors opened with a creak as the instructor sighed, turning his head towards the sky. Karma lurched from his position, brandishing a wolfish grin, but Korosensei was ready for his attack. Tentacles reached for his ankles, ripping him from the air as Karma grunted, eyes darting in surprise. 

“Can’t fool me, Mr. Akabane,” The teacher teased, holding him above the ground by his ankles. Karma crossed his arms in annoyance, but the smile didn’t leave his face. “You shouldn’t be skipping class just to watch me from the woods, either. Your education is important, after all!” 

“You caught me,” He admitted in sound defeat as Korosensei placed him back on the ground, rotating him to his feet and brushing him off with his other appendages. Karma waved away his caring tentacles, raising his gaze to meet the teacher. “Although I’m here to talk about other important topics. Forget my education for a moment, would you?” The boy silenced him with his words, glancing back through the windows.

“You’re here to talk about Nagisa, aren’t you?” Korosensei prompted, adjusting his robes, “He’s been a popular topic as of late. And it isn’t like him to miss a day of class,” He notes, bringing a tentacle to his cheek. Karma’s feet shift in the dirt, kicking at the grass with a tight frown.

“So, you know?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at the instructor.

“I don’t know everything, but I can pick up on the subtle things,” Korosensei explains, placing a tentacle to his chin in thought, “Due to academic integrity, I cannot mention his grades to you, but I will state that they were a warning sign. The lethargy in class, strenuous breaks to the restroom, and distance from his friends were also nuances in the classroom, you see.” 

Karma nods, turning his head away from Korosensei. So, he had known about the small things. Considering half of the class were self-proclaimed experts in human behavior and nuances, he wasn’t surprised. It was an imperative skill for an assassin, in Karma’s experience. It was only understandable that a creature of Korosensei’s intellect would be able to match his understanding of the situation before it was explained to him. 

“Right,” The boy sighs, raising a finger to his lips, “Although I believe there are a few things you’ve been missing. Perhaps your understanding for your precious students is beginning to dwindle?” He snarks, fiddling with the collar of his shirt, “You haven’t noticed the change in his combat abilities? Sure, they fall flat at certain points, but nothing like this. What do you think that’s a sign of?” Karma ponders, tilting his head in curiosity. He approaches the teacher with a smile, narrowing his eyes.

“Or maybe you’ve noticed his aversion to touch,” He comments, pressing a finger to the instructor’s chest. “An insightful flinch offers quite a bit of information about a certain predicament, don’t you agree?” Karma’s eyes blaze back at Korosensei’s permanent smile before turning on his heels with a dismissive wave. 

“I’ll leave you to figure that out then, dearest teacher,” Karma addresses finally before heading back down to the streets below. Korosensei sighs as the boy leaves his vision, and he is left with more questions than sought to be answered. It was just like Karma to approach him about a topic before leaving in a hurry, although that was not something he found necessary to work through with the boy. The pair of them were two sides of the same coin, Karma and Nagisa, full of secrets and afraid to allow others into their thoughts. While Karma actively left others in the mysticism of their ideas, Nagisa was a person who struggled to come clean about things. Korosensei had seen it before, his inability to ask for help, even if it was with something as simple as a math problem. He was regretting his silence now, despite his best interest in the boy and his future. 

The door opened behind Korosensei, and Karasuma peeked out his head, “Are you coming back any time soon? I’ve got some work to finish back at home,” The man grumbled, raising an eyebrow. “What? You’re not taking a smoke break, are you?”

“Of course not,” Korosensei answered, shaking his head, “Mr. Akabane was just here.” 

“Karma? It’s been a few days since he’s been in school,” He muttered, “Apparently, the school has tried calling his parents a few times about his attendance, but they aren’t people who are interested in talking.” He chuckles, motioning back towards the hallway.

Korosensei dips his head through the door, and the pair head back to the teacher’s lounge, floors creaking underneath their steps. “I think we should run a wellness check on Nagisa.” Korosensei prompts, taking his seat back beside Irina, who was busy fixing the paint on one of her nails.

“Just because he wasn’t here today?” The English teacher prompts, pressing the brush against her fingernail. She watches the crimson color overtake the chipping and purses her lips together. “Seems a bit excessive.” 

Korosensei dips his head, fiddling with a pen between his tentacles, “No, I’m afraid I’ve misjudged the situation with Nagisa. I’ve had two of his classmates approach now, although my interaction with Mr. Akabane worries me the most.” The teacher explains, motioning towards Karasuma. “Would you attend a house visit with me this evening? I think I’d like to drop by to speak with Nagisa’s mother about his performance at school.”

“You realize we have a protocol to follow as instructors, correct?” Karasuma pulls back his seat with a narrowed gaze, “We can’t just drop in on students whenever we feel like it. We have to speak with the higher-ups if we think the student is having an issue, or we can turn to the school counselor.” He sighs, taking his seat across from his fellow instructors. 

“Oh, lighten up, Tadaomi,” Irina mutters, examining the underside of her nails, “If the guy wants to drop by and see his mother so badly, just go with him. It’s not like this school doesn’t have other shit going on, considering they’re allowing children to train to be, you know, assassins.” She rolls her eyes in annoyance, shooting Korosensei a nod.

“She has a point,” Korosensei prompts, raising a tentacle. Karasuma sigh in disbelief, becoming increasingly aware of his ability to be outnumbered by his peers.

“Fine, but I’m not going to continue bending all of the rules just because you find it necessary,” Karasuma states, straightening the papers in front of him, “You have quizzes to grade, and I have a lesson plan to finish, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” 

Korosensei grumbles dejectedly as Irina pushes the stack of tests in front of him with a grin, “Grade up, teach.” The two men stare at Irina with a frown but say nothing, as they are more than aware she’s busy waiting for her nails to dry. 

-

Nagisa opens his eyes slowly, readjusting his gaze to the light barely pouring in from the windows. The comforter covering his frame is a new development, but he pushes it off when he realizes Karma is no longer sitting beside him. Turning his gaze back to the windows, he watches the sun’s departure from the sky with bated breath. He’s slept in for too long, and his mother should be returning from work soon. Tossing the blanket to the side of the couch, he shoots a gaze to the kitchen, hoping to see Karma, but he isn’t there. 

“You slept a while,” A voice raises from the hall, and Nagisa turns to catch Karma’s gaze. “I was just in the other room,” he explains, nodding towards his room. 

“I see,” Nagisa responds, dipping his head, “I should probably go back home,” he explains in a gentle tone, taking the comforter in hand and folding it twice. Karma bites his tongue as Nagisa returns the blanket to his arms and returns to the bathroom. He clutches the blanket in his fists with a grimace, marching to the bathroom. He presses his fist to the door, eyes twitching in annoyance. 

“You’re just going to go back after everything? Like nothing even happened?” He challenges through the door, staring daggers into the white paint. “I don’t understand you, Nagisa,” Karma sighs, his chin dipping towards the floor. He hated seeing him in such a sorry state, and he didn’t want his friend to return like she had done nothing. If it were Karma, he would leave without another word. No, he would have fought back against her, considering her frail frame and pitiful demeanor. With Nagisa’s talent, he should have squashed her like she was a bug. He should have taken her by the arm and flipped her. He should have pulled her to the ground and pressed a knee against her neck. 

He should have done something.

He should have done anything.

“I don’t understand you,” he whispered back at the door, leaving without another word. Throwing the comforter back on his bed, he slammed the door behind him, leaving Nagisa to change without a proper goodbye. Part of him didn’t want to be angry; he wanted to walk with him back to his apartment and give his mother a piece of his mind. Part of him wanted to be locked away for a while, biting his tongue in the dark, mulling over what he needed to do next.

The latter part was the winner. 

Nagisa’s back pressed against the door as he listened to Karma’s footsteps grow distant. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding his hands in front of his chest, shaking. Nagisa knew why Karma was frustrated with him, but he didn’t understand it either. He didn’t know why his knees grew weak when she yelled at him or why his teeth started to chatter when he felt Hiromi’s fingers brushing through the locks of his hair. He wished he wasn’t so weak. He had been pressed against the ropes with other students and professional assassins and felt no fear. When he thought of death, his heart didn’t skip a beat. So why, when he was against Hiromi, did he endure such fear? 

He pulled himself from his thoughts, undressing from his borrowed clothes, and back into his sullied uniform. As he left the bathroom, he peered farther down the hall, but Karma was already gone. He supposed he deserved that but felt terrible that he couldn’t thank him properly. The best he could do was fold the clothes he had been loaned and leave them on the restroom counter. With that, he left the Akabane estate and began his trudge back to his apartment, growing worrisome of the setting sun.

When he arrived at their apartment, Nagisa knew she was home. He saw the shifted mat with the kanji for “welcome” angrily scuffed to the side. In his mind, he could see her returning in a rage, accidentally kicking the mat to the side, angrily fumbling with the key when she noticed that the door wasn’t left unlocked for her. He could hear the slam of the door when Hiromi noticed that his shoes were still gone. Nagisa inhaled sharply before he opened the door, quietly closing it behind him with a click. He could see her back as she sat at the table, hair pulled into a tired ponytail, still in her work attire. Should he say something? He fought himself as he stood in silence, sliding off his shoes and pushing them closer to the wall. 

“Sorry, I’m late, mom,” he said softly, standing behind her place at the table. She was silent, but he saw her hands clench at the sound of his voice. Her nails clicked against the wood grain of the table. Nagisa was cued in on her visible annoyance at this point, and he tensed his shoulders. 

“I received a call at work,” Hiromi states, the drumming of her nails growing louder, “Is it true that you skipped school today?”

Nagisa could feel the trembling in his knees begin. It was like he had resorted back to being a child, the shaking hands and chattering teeth, his mother’s stern voice cutting through what strength he had left. He fought to respond, desperately wanting his words to escape from behind chapped lips. Respond. He needed to respond. Nagisa could feel the tension building in the air between them, so stagnant it could be cut with a knife. He watched her head tilt, her figure trembling in anger. Eyes squeezed shut so he wouldn’t be expectant of her sudden movement, which followed the clattering of her chair. 

Hands pressed against his throat as quickly as he blinked, he felt himself being knocked against the wall, hearing the air leave his lungs in one fell swoop. Her teeth were bared, eyes dazed in an explicit rage, hissing through her parted lips. “You did, didn’t you? Don’t lie to me!” Hiromi yelled, gripping his neck with brute force. His hands raised to struggle against hers in an attempt to pry her off of his windpipe.

“I do everything for you,” She screams, her eyes swimming with anger, “And this is the thanks I get? The thanks I get for bringing you into this world? Is this what you think I deserve? Lies and deception? Tell me!” She growls, but her grip does not loosen around her son’s neck. Nagisa attempts to get words to escape from between his lips, but they do not come. He’s struggling to breathe against her clutches, scrambling against her fingers.

He can hear Karma’s voice in the back of his mind.

Why don’t you just fight back?

And he does. Nagisa rears back his leg and kicks, sending her away from him in a heap on the floor. He hits the ground, panting for his breath to return. Coughing, he misses her advancement, Hiromi’s stance against her son, drawing her leg over his frame and slamming him back into the ground. He calls out for her to stop, but she only continues. Relentless cries and fists against his ragged frame, the bruises that Karma had wrapped tenderly being reissued, the scars that he had tried so hard to hide being unraveled right in front of him. The tears were escaping her eyes and landing over his discolored skin, these crocodile tears that he hated so much. What was she crying for? Crying because she had lost control? Crying because she had regretted the things she had done? Crying because she knew her son didn’t love her?

He didn’t know.

He was too scared to think, feeling himself sink back into darkness. He reached out to catch one of Hiromi’s fists, to pull her hands out of his hair, but the night was approaching too quickly. Her words dissolved into white noise, and his vision disappeared.

-

  
Irina told them that she had more work to finish, unrelated to school, so she would have to take a raincheck for the student check-in. Karasuma had assumed this was not how she wanted to spend her Friday night, but he was silent in his judgments. Korosensei had insisted on following in his human disguise, wanting to be present in the meeting for his student. 

“I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Miss Shiota,” he comments in his nervousness, pressing his gloved tentacles together, “As you can tell, I’ve never done this sort of thing before.”

Karasuma nodded, turning his attention back to the road, “You’re right. I can tell,” He chuckles, turning his blinker, “It’s only a meeting. Just mention the kid’s grades and what you’ve noticed about his behavior in class. Hand her the pamphlets about depression, and we’ll leave.”

Korosensei nodded, but the feeling in his stomach wouldn’t leave. Akabane’s words hadn’t left the back of his mind. He fiddled with the map in his lap, motioning for him to take another right. “There it is.”

The pair pulled into a lot of the apartment complex, and Karasuma parked the sedan closest to the road, away from the building itself. They stepped out from the safety of their vehicle and marched across the pavement, following the metal stairs to the second floor. Karasuma stared at the address in his hand, the pair of teachers counting the doors, waiting for apartment 216 to appear. 

There was a welcome mat just outside, slightly skewed to the side, which Korosensei fixed with his tentacle. A black umbrella propped against the wall, although it hadn’t rained in a week. Korosensei adjusted his fake nose, clutching the pamphlet between his gloved tentacle. Karasuma raised a fist against the door, knocking twice. 

They were met with silence.

“Maybe they’re not home,” Karasuma muttered, placing his hands in his pockets.

“No,” Korosensei stated, leaning closer to the door, “I’m breaking it down.”  
“Are you crazy? You can’t just break school policy and also break down someone’s private property--” Karasuma scolded, but Korosensei hadn’t listened. The door was removed by its hinges, thrown into the apartment.

Hiromi’s eyes widened, her fists still clutching her son’s vest. Cheeks wet with tears, knuckles discolored with blood. Nagisa’s body was limp in her clutches, his hair falling over his shoulders like a curtain. Korosensei was quick to his side, separating the two of them with his tentacles, cradling Nagisa’s head from hitting the ground. Karasuma left the depression pamphlet crushed under his shoes at the door. 

“Karasuma, call an ambulance,” Korosensei ordered, and the instructor obliged, flipping his phone from his pocket and approaching Nagisa’s side. “He’s breathing,” Karasuma says, pressing a finger against the boy’s throat.

“This is something you accomplished?” Korosensei prompted darkly, gripping the woman’s wrists with his tentacles. She was inconsolable in her current state, screaming over their accusations with bitter tears. There were no apologies; no excuses were escaping her lips, only cries of the things she deserved. The precious daughter that had been ripped from her grips. The school that she had never gotten to attend, the job she had never gotten to have. 

All at once, the instructors understood. Karasuma instructed the dispatcher through the phone while Korosensei was left to hold back his uncontrollable mother, still shouting through her tears. His grip tightened against her wrist as he remained silent. He could hear the sirens approaching in the distance.

He was sorry he hadn’t noticed sooner.

-

Irina Jelavić was busy in her hotel room, enjoying her soak. She hummed softly, dipping her fingers in and out of the steaming water. It had only been about ten minutes when her phone started ringing-- a call from Karasuma. The blonde considered ignoring the call for a moment, but she answered on the third ring.

“Can I help you?” She stated in annoyance, narrowing her eyes at her feet, dancing just outside of the tub. His voice sounded distant as he explained the situation. She could barely wrap her head around the events that had unfolded while she returned to tend to her Friday night of self-care. 

So much for that.

She redressed in her work clothes, trying her best to ignore any wrinkles that developed while sitting on the bathroom floor. Irina called a car to her hotel, quickly slipping on her shoes and heading down the elevator. It wasn’t often she was called to a hospital like this, and Karasuma had been so short on their phone call. She wasn’t quite sure she had a grip on this entire situation, but she tried to hurry her way through the lobby and into the car. Their greetings were short, and she was busy, lost in her thoughts as she watched the buildings pass. Bright lights drifted through her gaze like tiny comets, departing from her vision as quickly as they arrived. Red lights shifted to green, and their car crossed the bustling streets to the heart of the city.

“Can you pull over here? I just need to grab something,” She called to the driver as he obliged, turning into the next lane. 

-

Her heels clicked down the stark white halls, and she drew the bouquet closer to her chest. She had approached the administrator’s desk with a smile and obtained the room number of Shiota Nagisa. It felt weird to her, being in a hospital, especially for a student, but she knew she needed to be there with her fellow instructors. Her eyes met Karasuma’s, still in his work uniform, perched in the doorway of Nagisa’s room.

“Long night?” She prompted, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. 

He nodded in response, cocking an eyebrow at her hands, “Flowers, huh? That’s thoughtful of you.”

“I can be thoughtful sometimes,” Irina commented, adjusting their leaves, “Is he awake?” 

Karasuma shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck with a frown. “No. Korosensei only updated me on the entire situation after the hospital admitted him as an inpatient,” He explains, motioning his chin towards the end of the hall, “He’s outside somewhere. I decided it would be best for him to wait outside, as his appearance, even when disguised, can be a bit distracting.”

“Good point,” Irina agrees, turning her attention back to the room. The pair passed the entrance in silence, followed by the soft beeping of a heart monitor. Ironically, she felt her heart skip a beat seeing his state. As an assassin, she had seen the aftermath of many faults; those that were half-dead and those she had successfully killed. Despite this, Nagisa was still a child. It hurt her to see one of her students lying stagnant in a hospital bed, pale as a sheet, face covered in bruises and stuck full of IVs. 

“What... happened?” she muttered, placing the bouquet at the foot of the bed. Her eyes couldn’t leave his frame, his small chest fluttering under a thin blanket. 

“Abuse,” Karasuma stated coldly, pressing a hand on her shoulder. 

“I had no idea,” Irina whispered through barely parted lips, her throat feeling suddenly parched. As an assassin, she had learned the nuances of her targets, the small intricacies that showcased their entire personalities. Irina could discern others from their handwriting, down to the brand of the cigarette on their breath. So, how… could she miss something like this?


End file.
